When Peter Cariani was a teenager, both of his parents died. So as an
adult starting his career, "I had a fairly fatalistic view towards life,"
says the scientist, now 51. "I never expected to make much money, but I
thought there would be a niche for me that was sustainable and would help me
provide for my family and put my kids through college."
As a graduate student at Binghamton University (then SUNY
Binghamton), Cariani pursued lofty questions such as how biology differs
from artificial intelligence. Upon graduating, he couldn't find labs
doing anything close to theoretical biology, so in 1990, he accepted a
postdoc in the lab of esteemed auditory physiologist Nelson Kiang at the
Massachusetts Eye and Ear Institute, affiliated with MIT and Harvard
Medical School. "I wasn't an auditory person," Cariani says. "So I had a lot
to learn."
In 1993, Cariani received an R03 (small) grant - $30,000 per year for
two years - which covered part of his salary. Soon after, Cariani applied for
a (now discontinued) R29 grant, for first-time grantees. The application
contained "spectacular results," he says, but since the grant was scored
close to the cutoff (the point below which all applications were funded), it
required more discussion among reviewers. While he waited almost a year to
hear about his R29 application, he was jockeying for limited resources in a
high-profile, over-crowded lab (he was working in a 3 square-meter space),
and he began to feel demoralized. "It was like being on
Survivor," he recalls. "You're in a situation where it's
really beyond your control, and your ability to stay in the game is at stake.
And it's in the hands of unknown people, with unknown agendas." Then, he got
the grant: $70,000 per year in direct costs for five years. This promoted him
to assistant professor, technically a tenure-track position at Harvard
Medical School.
Cariani was relieved to get the grant, but because of his lab's tight
quarters, he started looking for other positions. Around 1998, he began
using his R29 to work with Mark Praymo at Mass General, on how sound is
processed by the brain. In 2000, he applied to convert his R29 to an R01 and
continue his work with Praymo; it was rejected. Cariani can't even recall if
it was scored. He kept trying for funding from the National Institutes of
Health and the National Science Foundation, and he finally obtained a
nonrenewable two-year grant from the NSF. That grant ran out in December
2003, and the following spring his wife was diagnosed with breast cancer.
He needed something stable. So in 2004 he joined the lab of Eric Frank
at Tufts, who was using pharmaceutical money to study spinal cord
regeneration and needed an electrophysiologist. "It was a godsend,
because things were looking very bleak at that point," says Cariani. The lab
began producing good results (some made their way into a
Nature Neuroscience article published online March 23;
Cariani's papers have generated more than 300 citations via ISI as of March
2008).
"I'm so cynical now, [rejection] is what I
expect," Cariani says. "Everyone I've talked to has stories like this."
Then, in 2006, things again fell apart. The pharmaceutical funder
(Biogen) cut its support, and Frank's R01, which had been funded for five to
six cycles, was rejected for renewal. This was a surprise, Cariani recalls,
given that Frank's lab was doing clinically relevant, translational work.
Cariani's experiences have left him frustrated and bitter. "I'm so cynical
now, [rejection] is what I expect," he says. "Everyone I've talked to has
stories like this."
Frank's lab could reapply, but the process might take one year, a lag
that a small lab (around six scientists) couldn't weather. One scientist
left for industry. Another moved elsewhere in clinical research. In
September, 2006, the lab ran out of the money it needed to sustain Cariani's
$60,000 salary, and he left. It was a sad moment. "I would be there if we had
gotten funded." He considered doing a postdoc. For several months, he
collected unemployment checks.
Now, Cariani consults for a foundation that's interested in
funding innovative science, such as consciousness research.
Intellectually, it's satisfying work, he says, but he can't shake the
feeling that he was a "failure" as an academic. "I'm angry more than anything
else," he says. People who are considering science as a career see how
everyone is struggling, he says - could that discourage future generations
from entering the field? The situation "is basically crippling the future
of American science. My children see what I'm going through."
Jay Rothstein was at Jefferson University in Philadelphia, then
moved to Amgen in Seattle. He had NIH funding when he left Jefferson, but the
stress of the system did "play a role" in his decision, he says. He estimates
that he was 90% dependent on soft money at Jefferson, and he weathered 18
months without NIH funding between 2003 and 2004, during which his
department covered his salary and helped a little with his supplies. He had
students and postdocs who were supported by their own NIH funding, so no one
had to leave. (Several years before, he had had to let a technician go when a
grant stopped.) Still, he "faced a huge amount of stress" worrying about
grants, he recalls. "It never really has a period of stability." So when an
opportunity at Amgen arose, along with the opportunity to move West, he took
it. (Rothstein declined to say whether the move came with a salary
increase.) "There was certainly a component of grant funding that I was
uncomfortable with," he says. "I certainly would not go back at this
point."
I am a medical researcher with NBC Nightly News. We are looking to interview a young scientist or post doc who did cancer research but is leaving due to the lack of NIH funding; inability to move up to your own lab, etc.
Please call my producer, jane Derenowski at 212 664-3251 if you wish to discuss being interviewed.
Thank you.
Joanne Nicholas 212 664-3801
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